Rayan has always believed in silence. In the space between words. In the quiet ache that lingers long after someone leaves. But on the morning of Raha's birthday, everything shifts. Haunted by the echo of her smile in a dream, he prays under a London sky and boards a plane to Turkey - chasing a pull he doesn't fully understand. Ayla, a gentle soul tangled in clumsy hands and unspoken faith, is painting her way through life at an orphanage in Konya, where forgotten bells still remember the footsteps of saints and poets. And somewhere between ancient shrines and fading prayer calls, between longing glances and untold stories, their paths begin to intertwine - carried by a wind that remembers everything. She wasn't exactly her. But the way the light held her-soft, forgiving-Rayan couldn't look away. His heart, once quiet, thumped against his ribs like it had woken from a deep sleep. POV: "Why does she look so familiar?" The question looped like prayer beads through his thoughts. POV: "Why does my heart beat... after so long?" He didn't mean to stare. He didn't even know he was. Until she turned. Her eyes caught his-just for a second-and the world held its breath. "Why do you look at me like that?" Ayla asked, voice gentle, but not afraid. She tilted her head, confused, curious. Rayan swallowed the lump in his throat. "Because you remind me of someone." A pause. "Someone I lost."

Book 1 in the Deviant Creatures Series In the slums of New York City an underground prison sat. The City that Never Sleeps wasn't all it seemed, ruled by the society of the supernatural, the gang wars were pack wars, the drug dealers were carriers for money hungry beasts. But in the midst of all the chaos sat the prison. Everest Peak Penitentiary was renowned for being the most dangerous werewolf prison in the States, all of the traitors, tyrants, and hellions went there. The worst of the worst. Only the strongest survived. You had to fight your way to the top, past the plotting twats and bloodthirsty savages. Right up to the top, to the throne. It was known for that she-wolves never go to Everest. Save for the exception of Olympe Tryker. For years she had been the talk of the supernatural, her crimes horrid, her temper even worse. At the young age of fifteen she had been incarcerated into Everest. And she, like everyone else there, learned the hard way. It was kill or be killed. •Warning - Mature Themes• •cover by Deviation-•